


in every pound of his heart

by shepherd



Series: Hug Ignis Week [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dancing, Episode Ignis Verse 2, Fluff, Hug Ignis Week, M/M, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 23:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20938580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: HUG IGNIS WEEK, DAY ONE: HUGS/FAMILY AND FRIENDSAs he was pulled even further into the hold Ignis settled his palms on Gladio’s chest. He found the lapels, pinned back and sleek. Lips touched his smooth cheek and they lingered. “I love you,” Gladio said. “So much.”(ignis and gladio enjoy a dance together, in the final moments of an evening)





	in every pound of his heart

It was time for them to go. It had long since been about that time, the grand ballroom beginning to empty out past the twelfth chime and the departure of the king and queen. Throughout Ignis’ long career in charm he knew that most lost interest in proceedings once the best among them had made their excuses, and that was when the catering staff began to fidget.

He could hear the glasses clattering, the murmur of soft voices. It was dreadfully late – Ignis knew the evening chill intimately from his position on the balcony – and they had no more reason to dally, but so caught up in the mood of the evening Gladio could not tear himself away, and Ignis dare not disturb his repose.

Time seemed to move slowly here. It was a strange feeling, an electric current between them that made Ignis seem to slip from his own skin, to exist out of the march of time. Seconds ticked past and melted into long, sprawling minutes. Somehow with Ignis’ notice or say so they became hours. All the while in Gladio’s arms, and Ignis couldn’t shift his smile.

It had been a long evening in retrospect. But for the first time not an arduous one. When Ignis was a younger man it had always dragged, the night full of single-minded duty. There was no time for pleasures. There were too many heavy, expectant eyes. Those eyes still lingered to this very day, but Ignis cared little. It was easy to shrug them off now. It was hard to disturb him at his age, when he bore a confidence that his younger self could only dream of possessing. Now only one man could ruffle his feathers, and he twirled Ignis around the balcony still.

Ignis could feel the flush. It was hard to tell himself it was just the air of the night against his skin. He knew it was the delight of Gladio’ warm breath on his cheek.

“I think we’re holding up the night, love,” he said in almost a whisper, but he didn’t dare be the first to pull away.

A mumble was his response, and a squeeze of his hands. They pulled him in a never-ending lazy circle, meaningless and yet meaningful. It felt like they had been dancing all night – Ignis had been able to excuse himself with an apologetic kiss for mere minutes at a time before Gladio would come to claim him again, prowling amongst the thick crowd. It seemed not to matter how Ignis had begun to lightly sweat. It had made his glasses slip down his nose and his carefully coiffed hair lose it’s height. Gladio’s scent would fill his nose, his hands would touch his shoulders, and Ignis could never tell his husband no. Not the man who wore his ring and carried his heart.

When it was clear Gladio had no intentions of letting Ignis take him home, Ignis laughed at him. “Gladiolus.”

Another murmur. They still swayed but had lost their rhythm and step long ago. As the evening progressed Ignis had heard their fellow man fall away, too exhausted or tipsy. Ignis had steadily drunk enough to feel the thrum in his blood, the pure delight in Gladio’s warmth. The idea of pulling away to talk to anyone else felt laughable. Decades of charming the king’s guests had been fun, once upon a time. Ignis had made a game of it. Now it was mind numbing, droning, listening to men who still found a way to look down on him talk ceaselessly about the glory days while all he wanted was the comfort of his office and the warmth of his home. Ignis would much rather a glass of wine and a good podcast, and the quiet snores of the man he cherished.

Still, he needed to pretend to be an adult for Noctis’ sake. And the effort of it all made him ache.

“It’s terribly late,” Ignis reminded him, like a parent attempting to coax a child away from a playground as the sun began to sink. “We really must be going.”

Gladio leaned in close enough for their noses to touch. Puffs of soft, slow breath were scalding against Ignis’ lips. They parted for him on instinct. “Just a little longer.”

“Gladiolus,” Ignis said pointedly, dropping an octave simple to scold him, but then Gladio stole his pursing lips in a firm kiss.

It killed his hesitation. Those lips were famously steady, always unapologetic. Their noses nudged and their cheeks met, Gladio bold enough to pull Ignis closer yet with his hands large and warm, his oiled beard pleasantly soft. The embrace was perfection. The oil smelt of lavender and Ignis sighed into his mouth. In his moment of weakness, he couldn’t protest as a hand slipped further around his waist, flattening on the small of his back. Ignis returned the affection tenfold, pressing against him, reaching to cup the back of Gladio’s head.

As the world slipped away, Ignis knew it would not be silenced for long. Insomnia would never rest.

Across the room a chair screeched. It disturbed the flow of the music still playing, a band still seated uncertainly upon a small stage, playing for an audience of two who no longer seemed to be listening. The cleaning crew picked up the chairs, settling them on wiped down tables, but the spell would not break.

Gladio broke away to breathe, and Ignis took his chance to speak through swollen lips. “Gladio,” he chided as pointedly as he dared. His husband hummed, leaning forward for their hot foreheads to touch. There was a tickle against Ignis’ face – Gladio’s long, loose hair, pulled free from his usual bun. Ignis wavered imagining the sight of him, eyes drifted closed and his expression finally at peace. Hair that Noctis had smugly informed him was mostly a steely grey these days, but still luxurious and luscious in the face of Ignis’ reverent touch. “Come now,” he said before he could break apart, giving into the sheer adoration. He found a loose lock of hair and tucked it carefully behind Gladio’s ear. “I wouldn’t be much surprised if breakfast were being served currently. Our time has come, Gladio, and we should depart before we’re thrown out.” He smiled, ear to ear. “We’ll upset our precious king.”

“Mmm,” his lover said only to steal another kiss. Teeth nipped at his lower lip playfully. “You’re so beautiful, Ignis.”

A glass clattered to the ground, and a man swore. Another laughed at him, and the cacophony covered the sound of Ignis’ sharp surprise. “Oh, I,” Ignis began and faltered in his embarrassment. He swallowed and felt a kiss pressed to the corner of his creased lips. He could feel Gladio smiling too. Years of this, and still Gladio could render him a stammering fool. Ignis cleared his throat. “Trying to charm me, are you?”

It was like they were teens again. Young men in an ancient hall with fledgling feelings. Even the smallest touch had been enough to drive Ignis wild. He could easily recall Gladio’s first cologne, inexperienced hands applying just a touch too much. The chains of a Crownsguard had gleamed at his throat. Gladio’s handsome look and neat uniform was one thing, and his deadly charm was another. Ignis could not stand against it all no matter how he scrambled. It had been hard – nigh impossible – as Gladio joked and complimented, smiled and preened, and Ignis had slipped. He fell hard but Gladio had picked him back up and held on tight while Ignis found his feet.

For some who had been together as long as they had, the charm left. That spark died. But they brought new life into each other with every passing day, and Ignis knew it was moments like these that brought it all to the surface. A few childish moments made him feel young again.

A Gladio from decades past had a wicked grin. _Is it working, _he would have asked. Ignis would have choked. A beautiful man and a sharp cut suit would send him spiralling, and it still did - at fifty four years of age, still within strong, loving arms, still smiling when Gladio whispered his name.

As he was pulled even further into the hold Ignis settled his palms on Gladio’s chest. He found the lapels, pinned back and sleek. Lips touched his smooth cheek and they lingered. “I love you,” Gladio said. “So much.”

Ignis could only breathe. He swallowed and let himself be led across the empty balcony and Gladio guided him as the last song faded, and the last note fell into the darkness. It had become only the clashing of gathered glasses and the murmur of voices and Ignis could barely find it inside himself to be embarrassed any longer. A flush still sat across his cheeks. It was the fire of too much alcohol, and the passion of a lover’s kiss.

As if aware, Gladio pressed matching kisses on his cheeks quickly, stealing his lips once again. “I’m so happy you married me. Calling you my husband has been the greatest honour of my life.”

A little breathless underneath the attention, Ignis laughed. “You looked so hopeful,” he tried to joke. “It would have been cruel to say no.”

Undeterred, Gladio buried his head into Ignis’ hair. Now it was well and truly ruined. Ignis took peace in that there were none to see who would judge, clung to by the man who loved him like no other. Gladio breathed in deep, taking in the scent of his pomade, like the tang of sherbet. “I love you,” he said again, so close to his ear it made Ignis tremble.

He clutched at the lapels tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. In the fresh silence the world was raw. It brought Ignis back to their wedding night, the two of them twined together and the radio finally dying. It had struggled for too long trying to play crackled old hits, the kind their parents must have danced to in their own glory days. Gladio had wept. He had cried during their small ceremony, then again throughout their first dance. Silent but powerful, the kind that made his shoulders shake, hot tears that he made no attempt to wipe away. Ignis thought that may have been the last of it, only for him to sob like a child as his husband clutched him and the radio spluttered one last burst of static.

Ignis had rubbed his shoulders, smoothed over his skin and all along his crown, and kissed him. They had danced in the silence. Their own beat was all they needed.

The thought of it made him smile. Those days when Gladio’s hair had not yet come to bear silver, in the early days of the sun’ return. A sacred time for them all, that Ignis carried close to his heart. It had made him softer, bound to his lover for good, Gladio in every pound of his heart.

“And I love you,” Ignis promised lowly, a declaration meant for his ears alone. Reaching up he cupped the back of Gladio’s head, fingers sliding into the thickness of his hair. “So much,” he promised, and intended to let Gladio hold him until time itself dared to pull them apart.


End file.
